


A Squire's Tale

by Gaby



Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen, Humor, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 06:01:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8359972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaby/pseuds/Gaby
Summary: Peter and Neal are undercover at a Ren Faire. Peter loves it. Neal? Not so much.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's Notes:** Written for the 5th Caffrey-Burke Day to celebrate the awesomeness that is Peter and Neal in any and all its wonderful combinations. The fic is based on and inspired by kanarek13's brilliant Knight and Squire art. Additional inspiration came from the amazing movie _A Knight's Tale_ (meaning, Neal's speech is a total rip-off of Chaucer's monologues in that movie *g*).  
>  **Beta by:** elrhiarhodan  
>  **Disclaimer:** Not mine, never were, never will be, gosh darn it!

[](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/sinfulslasher/6185781/501385/501385_original.png)

 

"You can't do this, Peter," Neal hissed while stroking the beautiful white horse he stood next to. 

"It's the only way," Peter muttered back. Then he gestured. "Now help me up, squire."

Neal glared. "It's bad enough that we're undercover like this but you can't seriously believe it's a good idea to take part in the _jousting_ tournament?" He continued to stand next to the horse, effectively keeping Peter from mounting it.

Peter looked around furtively. "We've been trying to arrest Arthur Wilkerson for two weeks now. We know that he is right here, at this Ren Faire, but he's hiding somewhere." Peter gently but firmly pushed Neal aside so he could get on the horse. "Neither Jones nor Diana have been successful in finding Wilkerson until now," he continued, quickly making eye contact with his two agents. Diana, dressed like a bar wench and hating every second of it, was keeping an eye on the crowd near the food stands while Jones, dressed as a court jester, was strolling through the masses. "You haven't seen him either, so now I'm going to get a new vantage point." Peter raised himself up in the saddle to take a look around.

"You've never jousted before," Neal argued, adjusting the stirrups. "You'll get yourself killed."

"How difficult can it be? You point a stick at another rider while sitting on a horse."

Neal stared at Peter in disbelief. "The pointy end of that 'stick'? Can pierce you. And kill you in the process."

Peter knocked on the chest armor he was wearing, giving Neal a grin. "I think I'm good." He patted his horse's neck. "Wilkerson loves a good spectacle. I'm sure he'll come out of hiding to watch the jousting. You just keep an eye on the crowd."

Before Neal could respond, Peter kicked his heels into the horse's flank and rode off.

Neal stared in disbelief after Peter, thought for a long moment, and then strode purposefully towards the area where the jousting was to take place.

The first couple of "knights" had already met on the lists, and Neal watched nervously as Peter moved toward the front of the line of jousters.

Peter thought Wilkerson liked a good spectacle? Well, Neal was going to give not only Wilkerson, but the entire crowd one hell of a spectacle then.

When it was Peter's turn to ride into the field, Neal jogged past him until he stood in the middle of the arena. Ignoring Peter's -- not to mention the opposing "knight's" -- confused look, Neal spread his arms, cleared his throat and loudly stated, "My lords, my ladies, and everybody else here not sitting on a cushion."

The crowd was slowly taking notice of the good-looking squire, confused by the unscheduled interruption.

"May I have your attention, please? Allow me to introduce myself--I am George of Riverside, faithful and devoted squire of Sir Peter." Neal pointed at Peter, who was staring at him in complete bewilderment. The crowd's chatter slowly died down.

"I have the pride, the privilege--nay, the pleasure!--of introducing to you Sir Peter, a stalwart knight, a wooer of fair maidens, a protector of children, and most notably a warrior for the crown and the church."

The crowd was listening avidly by now, much to Peter's chagrin and dismay. And Neal was only getting started.

"He fought against dragons and mystical creatures," Neal exclaimed, throwing his arms wide. "Scaling mountains and crossing seas, to defend the honor and good name of our King and to conquer new land, this fearless knight will never rest until all evil is defeated and all savages are tamed."

The crowd was so quiet, Peter could have heard a pin drop. But he was too busy boggling at the spectacle Neal was creating.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw their suspect creeping to the front of the crowd, completely riveted by the squire's speech.

Diana and Jones spotted Wilkerson as well. They quickly began to close in on him.

Just as Neal was beginning to sprout nonsense about the bards who had spent years composing numerous songs about Sir Peter's virtues, not to mention the poets who wrote sagas about the knight's various adventures, Diana and Jones grabbed Wilkerson. Peter jumped off his horse and ran over to their suspect as quickly as his body armor allowed.

They had Wilkerson cuffed, with Diana reading him his rights, before Neal could finish his adulation with his praise of Sir Peter's lightning quick reflexes and brilliant mastery of the jousting lance.

Peter strode over to Neal, who was taking several deep bows and inclining his head graciously at the deafening round of applause and excited hollering from the crowd. "I can't believe you did that," he grumbled.

Neal smirked. "You got what you wanted, didn't you?" he asked, nodding at Wilkerson.

Peter opened his mouth to argue, but then snapped it shut again. "I hate you," he finally just muttered.

Neal just grinned from ear to ear. "Take a bow, Oh Chivalrous Knight. You're a superstar now."

Peter eyed the crowd, chanting his name and generally behaving like a group of hysterical teenaged girls meeting Justin Bieber, blushed deeply and then grabbed Neal's arm. "We're done here," he said stiffly, dragging his squire along.

"Wave at your adoring fans, Peter," Neal suggested, giving the crowd a smile and a wave. "Wave and smile. I'm sure someone's going to upload all this to YouTube before we even make it back to the office."

Peter stopped dead in his tracks at that. "What?"

Neal shrugged and blew several kisses to the crowd. "Social media was strong in Medieval times."

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose--which made the armor along his arms creak loud enough for Neal to crack up--and then continued to drag his reluctant squire off the jousting field. "I hate you," he muttered.

"My silver tongue saved you," Neal retorted smugly. "No additional holes in your body anywhere and we still arrested Wilkerson."

"Well, I hate you and your silver tongue then."

"You _love_ my silver tongue." Neal sounded even more smug.

Peter stopped next to Wilkerson, who glared at him, and gave his agents a quick nod. Diana and Jones grinned and led the way to the parking lot, their suspect held tightly between them. Peter, however, stayed a couple of steps behind. He gave Neal a long, stern look before cracking the barest of soft smiles. "Yeah, I love your silver tongue," he admitted, and then leaned in close to add in a whisper, "I'll show you how much when we get home tonight."

THE END


End file.
